Family
by Rainstorm Amaya Arianrhod
Summary: Shortly after the events of Abhorsen, Lirael goes to Belisaere. To escape her niece's social plans, she visits the Clayr to retrieve her belongings. What will the Clayr think?
1. Being Stared At

A/N: Mysecond Garth Nix fic, Lirael-centric, and hopefully it will get reviewed. No pairings whatsoever, OK? Except possibly a smattering of Sabriel/Touchstone...

Disclaimer: All by Garth Nix; don't sue me, you won't get enough to make it worthwhile.

* * *

"Ellimere, you are well and truly evil," Lirael told her grinning niece, as she collapsed into a large, soft armchair. 

"Oh, come on, Aunt Lirael," Ellimere protested. "It was only a little parade!"

"That's precisely what I mean!" Lirael gesticulated weakly with her remaining hand. "Here's me, riding in, trying to handle the reins with only one hand, and along comes a blinking reception commitee! And they always stared at my... wrist, as it were! It was easier being a Sightless Clayr!"

"Don't worry," Sabriel said gloomily, pulling off her riding gloves and leaning on the mantel of the fireplace. "That particular little reception was nothing compared to what Ellimere has no doubt organised. Probably something along the lines of graden parties, balls, and more balls, Charter damn 'em."

"With one hand!" Lirael squeaked. "One hand?" Her uninjured hand crept to the pocket of her stout jacket, finding the reassuring soapstone contours of the Dog's statuette. _There'll be other friends, and dogs, and loves..._ It still made Lirael cry sometimes, months of recuperation later and even with Sam, Ellimere, Sabriel, Touchstone and Nick and for a brief period Sanar and Ryelle's comfort, she kept on starting to share a joke with Dog, or reach down to scratch her behind the ears.

Ellimere glanced awkwardly down at Lirael's stump, hanging carelesslywhile Lirael thought, and shifted her eyes uncertainly from it. "You know Sam is making you a prosthetic one."

"Yes. I know," Lirael said in a dull voice, and then shook herself. "I just hate balls! And being stared at!"

Touchstone chose this moment to enter the room. "Has anyone seen Sam?"

"Yes," Nick answered, following Touchstone in. He now looked more like the energetic, scientific boy that Sam had known before Hedge decided that Nicholas Sayre would make a good avatar for his master. "Up in that workshop of his. Making something."

"I thought you liked watching Sam make things?" Sabriel queried.

"I do," Nick said with some energy. "But not when he's completely ignoring me and tossing Charter marks around like there will be no tomorrow. It makes life difficult for persons such as me. Specifically, breathing. Do you people never notice that Charter marks suffocate those of us who are less adept!"

Ellimere groaned, ignoring the last sentence or so. "I would bet you any money he doesn't go to bed tonight."

Lirael laughed. "Of course he won't. Have you seen his frog?"

"What do you mean?" Sabriel asked curiously.

"The mechanical one," Lirael explained. "With a dash of Charter magic. It catches flies."

"I won't ask," Touchstone said. "I still remember you breaking Sam's feather-coin, or whatever it was he called it."

"I hammered it," Ellimere reminisced, right hand making small grabbing motions in the air as she remembered. "Absolutely hammered it."

"What time is it?" Lirael asked, suddenly very tired.

Nick glanced at his modern watch and swiftly abandoned that option; its hands were spinning round the face of the watch. It would be hours ahead.

"Sabe?" Lirael asked. She was learning to treat Sabriel more casually.

"Eh..." Sabriel looked at the oldfashioned, Charter-spelled timepiece on the mantelpiece. "Charter help us. Didn't realise it was that late."

Everyone dispersed to their own sweet sleep, blessedly dreamless; and many many miles away, in the Clayr's Glacier, a certain Sister of the Clayr who was somewhat behind the news lay awake, thinking only of a niece she was so sure she would never see again.


	2. Assumptions

A/N: Hellooo! I'm back! And here's the next chapter for you!

Disclaimer:Mine? Tu plaisantes!

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Contrary to popular belief, the morning does not make things look better. So it was that when Lirael, Abhorsen-In-Waiting, Breaker of Orannis and Remembrancer awoke to sunlight streaming through her recently opened curtains, she greeted the sunny morn with a disconsolate groan. "Please tell me I was dreaming when I heard Ellimere say that she had planned a series of exquisitely dull parties for me!" she pleaded with the world. Suddenly, Ellimere loomed over her. Lirael squeaked, and hastily stifled the noise. Abhorsens-In-Waiting do not squeak. 

"No, I wasn't!" Ellimere grinned, dragging the covers off Lirael's bed.

"Aaah," Lirael moaned. "At what point, O niece, did I say I wanted to get up?"

"Just now," Ellimere informed her cheerfully. "Why do you use words and syntax like that?"

Lirael gave her a slightly weakened glare. "I worked in a library. And I only talk like this when I'm annoyed."

"Are you annoyed?" Ellimere asked briskly. "Ah well. Breakfast is on the table. The boys aren't up yet, but, well, they're boys. What are you going to wear?"

"Whatever happens to be in front of me," Lirael said, only partially joking.

Ellimere, meanwhile, was burrowing through Lirael's packs. "Did you not pack for the long term?" she enquired.

Lirael sat up in bed, giving up on going back to sleep. She blinked at Ellimere. "Well, no."

"So where's the rest of your stuff?"

"In the Clayr's Glacier," Lirael answered, thinking wistfully of her home. Dog, Aunt Kirrith, Sanar, Ryelle, the Library, Filris and the Glacier often featured in her dreams. "Miles away."

"You'll have to go and fetch them at some point," Ellimere said absently, choosing clean clothes from Lirael's pack. "I'll see you in a few minutes!" She smiled at Lirael and whisked out of the room. Lirael could hear her calling orders in her hockey-captain's voice.

Lirael dressed slowly, completely ignoring the sumptuous surroundings. She was thinking about what Ellimere had said. 'You'll have to go and fetch them'… A rising tide of something that felt uncommonly like anger, not an emotion she was accustomed to feeling,swamped her. A nice girl, Ellimere, but perhaps a little… presumptive. Lirael was not in the least sure whether she should let Belisaere become her home; wasn't she a Daughter of the Clayr? And wasn't she a Second Assistant Librarian? Lirael looked at the surcoat on the bed. Abhorsens' keys quartered with Clayrs' stars. At the moment, it was the formershe had a problem with.She scowled, and rooted in her pack for her waistcoat, slightly ragged at the edges from the hectic weeks of travelling that led up to the Binding and Breaking of Orannis. Firmly, she buttoned it up over her white shirt and made to leave the room. Just as she stepped out, she looked back at the surcoat, still neatly folded on the bed. She stuck her tongue out at it, tipped her head up proudly, and shut the door. She sealed it with a short-lived Charter spell and marched proudly in the direction of breakfast.


	3. Old Habits

A/N: Hey! Me again!Posting, oh wonder of wonders! This chapter is dedicated to Koneko-chan, for a very thoughtful review. I hope you find less to dislike in this chapter, where we have Lirael reverting to her old habits (hence the chapter title.)

Disclaimer: These characters belong to a guy called Garth Nix. Remember that, kiddies. _Garth Nix_.I am not and never have been a guy, unless it was in a past life.

* * *

Once the morning room where informal breakfast was served was reached, it was plain that Lirael was not the only one to have been woken forcibly by Ellimere. Sam yawned irrepressibly over a plate of bacon and eggs and Nick gulped a cup of scalding tea. 

Lirael sat down and poured herself a mug of coffee. She buttered a piece of toast while she waited for it to cool.

Sabriel ran a critical eye over her half-sister. "Is something wrong, Lirael?"she asked.

"Oh, nothing," Lirael said. "Simply that Ellimere has reminded me of the fact I need to return to the Clayr."

Nick choked quietly and eyed his tea suspiciously.

"Forever?" Sabriel asked tentatively.

Lirael looked up from her toast, face unreadable. "Well, it depends, doesn't it?"

"Depends on what?" Sabriel enquired, frowning. She hadn't thought that Lirael had many remaining ties to the Clayr's Glacier.

Lirael indicated her waistcoat with a butter-coated finger. "I _am_ a Second Assistant Librarian. Me'n Dog-" Lirael gritted her teeth briefly. "-Me'n Dog used to keep down the odd nasty Free Magic beastie in The Old Levels. And Aunt Kirrith might even want to see me. Charter knows she was unhappy enough about my leaving."

The rest of the people at the table exchanged glances; Nick made the mistake of leaning forward slightly and querying: "Lirael... what brought this on?"

Lirael straightened in her chair and glared at Nick. "Nothing whatsoever brought this on, _Nicholas Sayre_. I want to see my family. Just like you do."

Nick, well and truly squashed, slumped in his chair and took a large gulp of tea. Sam looked at him and grimaced in uninformed sympathy, and suddenly remembered something that had been lost in the fug of sleepiness. "Lirael?"

Lirael bristled automatically, thinking that Sam was going to come up with another stupid reason –stupid? part of her mind questioned. Stupid? Are you sure?- why she had to stay here. "What now, Sam?"

Sam blinked. He couldn't remember Lirael speaking so sharply. She must be really tired, he thought, and missing Dog and all. "It's just that I finished your hand."

Lirael looked at him. "That quickly?"

Sam examined his cooling fried egg intensely. "Well... I'd already made plans, so... err... yes."

"And I'll bet you stayed up all night!" Ellimere snapped, so shocked by Lirael's announcement and the accompanying sudden coolness towards Nick that she forgot to be sympathetic to Sam, particularly as Sam's habit of staying up all night irritated her fiercely anyway.

Sam glowered at her. "So what if I did?"

"Sam... Ellie..." Touchstone warned.

Lirael took no notice, eating her toast and trying to banish doubts that had crept into the back of her mind.

_What makes you so sure they'll take you back?_

_Aren't they the ones who sent you away?_

_Why do you want to go back?_

_Family? Is that it? A couple of handfuls of cousins and an aunt? Most of whom like to pretend you don't exist?_

_What makes you think your aunt will care?_

_Won't you be a guest? Not really belonging?_

_Vancelle probably won't take you back, you know..._

Lirael shook her head and glanced around the table. Nick was trying to stop Sam leaping out of his chair to confront Ellimere. Ellimere was shouting. Sabriel and Touchstone were shouting to make themselves heard. It was as if a big bubble of tension about Lirael's allegiances had floated over them. Lirael had burst it, and chaos had ensued. Lirael thought back to comfortable times as a librarian. She hadn't been in a half-way decent library for so long. She sneaked another look at her family and Nick. Occupied. Thoroughly so... in fact, now was the perfect time to slip away. Lirael put down her toast, and got up. No-one noticed. Part of Lirael was upset; the other part, the antisocial librarian, was just delighted. Lirael slipped out of the door, and heading in the general direction of the library, she realized how true the old saying was: old habits die very hard indeed.


	4. Lirael Goldenhand

A/N: Here we go. I hope I got Lirael a little closer to character this time. More thanks to Koneko-chan for thoroughly interesting arguments.

Disclaimer: Have you not grasped this? No? Yes? No? Merciful peace. Not mine!

* * *

Lirael sat in a far corner of the library, obscured by bookcases. She was curled up in an armchair, and her hair fell across her face as she read by a Charter light hovering over her head. The stump of her wrist rested on her hip. A pile of books was neatly stacked by her feet. 

She turned the last page of the first book and set it down. She picked up the next- '_City of the Dead: Belisaere in the Interregnum'_ – and began to read. The Charter light flickered above her; she recast it with more ease than she would have done a year or so ago.

Before she had got half-way through the book, a shadowstood overher and practised fingers extinguished the Charter light.

_Miles away in the Clayr's Glacier, a woman got news. To be more precise, it was gossip, and Kirrith did not normally deign to listen to gossip. But this gossip concerned her niece (and it seemed that everyone, but everyone, had been conspiring to keep news of that particular relation from her, for reasons Kirrith knew not) and it also concerned Sanar and Ryelle's curious attitude. That pair had been sitting on some great piece of knowledge for weeks. It was becoming annoying._

"Aunt Lirael?"

There was only one person who ever called Lirael 'Aunt', and that was Ellimere. While Lirael had been reading, Ellimere's argument had obviously fizzled out, and here she was. Lirael made no reply, but she stopped reading at '...usurp' on page 468 and looked up. Ellimere looked ever so slightly timid. This was so out of character that the words 'What's wrong?' lined up on her tongue, but before they could leave her mouth Ellimere rushed on:

"You know, when Sam said he'd finished your hand, he meant it was ready for you to try, if you're not busy..." Her voice trailed off, and she glanced uncomfortably at Lirael's stump- only briefly, but Lirael caught the look and tugged her wrist into the shadows. It was, perhaps, one of the few things that made Ellimere uncomfortable. Perhaps it had brought on the timidity. At any rate, that seemed gone now. She put the book down, and stood.

"I'm coming," she said simply.

There were a lot of stairs to Sam's study. Ellimere did not knock, but walked straight in.

"What have I told you about my workroom, Ellie?" Sam began. He held something Lirael couldn't see. "Oh, hello, Lirael," Sam said. "Here." He held it out, without ceremony, and leaned against the edge of the workbech, waiting for Lirael to try it.

She held it, at first,in one hand, her stump loose by her side. It seemed almost a backwards mirror of her own right hand, but it shimmered gently gold, foreign Charter marks dancing and swirling in pre-ordained patterns just beneath the golden surface that spoke softly, brightly to the Charter in Lirael as her own Charter mark brightened and dimmed in response. Though it was made of metal, or so it seemed, it was blood-warm to the touch, more strange Charter marks cooling it to match the temperature of her skin. Lirael stood still for a minute. _**The Dog... a teenager bent over a green-stoned bracelet, eyes intent on something far away... the glint of silver wire in a tiny cubicle, an office... a small silver sun impressing the back's of Lirael's eyelids... Filris... a very sore throat... Binder... Stilken... The Book of The Dead... In The Skin Of A Lyon... The Dark Mirror...**_ Her mind, first and foremost that of a librarian, threw up other times when unknown Charter marks had been shown to her. Feeling much like she had running through mud and reeds on the edge of the Red Lake, Lirael lifted her trembling right wrist, and fitted the hand onto the stump. A mist of gold sparks encircled her forearm and sank in. Lirael flexed the fingers and picked up a pen. A tentative, brilliant smile graced her features. Nick, standing unnoticed in a corner, said not a word, but his eyes remained fixed on Lirael. Sam grinned in triumph. Ellimere's eyes were huge, drinking the Charter marks in.

Lirael continued to test the hand, wandering around the room. Finally, she stopped and looked at Sam, the brilliant smile still on her face. "Thank-you," she whispered.

_Miles away in the Clayr's Glacier, a woman sat down very quickly, and then got up again because it was, after all, a cold stone floor. Imshi, the gossip-bearer and now a First Assistant Librarian, eyed her with a glimmer of vindicatory joy- she found Kirrith overbearing and far too composed. "My- my niece," Kirrith gasped, sounding uncharacteristically shocked. "Lirael?" _


	5. Sword Drills

A/N: I've done it! I've acheived the impossible: I've plotted out the rest of this story. Which means I will no longer be stabbing around in the dark for the subject of the next chapter. Ha! And I would start looking around for tiny smidgens of Lirael/Nick, if you haven't spotted the itsy ickle references already...

Disclaimer: And the Authoress proclaimed, let there be disclaimers; and there were, and they warded off the legal beagles for yet another chapter.

Disclaimer 1a: Thou shalt not claim that I am Garth Nix; forthe truth shall come out; and the truth it that the Authoress is_ not_ Garth Nix.

* * *

Lirael returned at a run to her room and practically fell on her knees in front of a large mahogany chest. Like everything else in the room, it was serviceable but elegant. It had been made specially for Lirael, with the lock answering to Lirael's whistle and her blazon, Abhorsen keys quartered with Clayr seven-pointed stars, just above the lock.

It took three attempts for Lirael to whistle the correct combination. She fumbled it open with trembling fingers, carefully lifting the lid to reveal a sword the sendings had left out for her, which Sabriel had found on her most recent trip to Abhorsen's House.

Unlike the bells Sabriel had given to Sam, there was a record of the ownership of this sword: it had belonged to Jaciel, the last Remembrancer, although she was best known for her defeat of Azazel, a Free Magic construct who was bent on unravelling the Charter. It was called Jasna, or such was the name carved in tiny letters of the Higher Alphabet on the cross-guard. Its inscription ran thus, in gold-flickering runes:

_I am of the stars, yet I am the key to the past also; in me you find a cross-roads_.

Lirael did not quite understand this. However, Nick, who was good at riddles, and considered this one ridiculously easy, suggested that the 'of the stars' bit referred to Jaciel and Lirael being Daughters of the Clayr, that the 'key' referred to the Abhorsen blood, 'the past' meant Remembrancing, and the 'cross-roads' was the mixture of two bloods. When Nick thrashed this out with Sam, Lirael had been depressed and content to take them at their word. She had not touched a sword since her injury.

Cautiously, she unbuckled the black leather straps that kept the sheathed sword attached to the chest's lid, and unsheathed the sword, feeling its weight in her hand.

It was long, a little lighter than Nehima had been –or was that because the last time Lirael had wielded Nehima she had been heading for a cataclysmic battle and (so she thought) a painful death?- and its blade had a slight blue sheen. It had a sensible cross-guard –clearly, whoever made Jaciel's sword did not believe in faffing around with decorating too much –that was wrapped with silver wire, as the hilt was. That particular detail always reminded Lirael of Nehima, but here was a difference: a blue stone, clear-cut, caught the sunlight. Below that stone, on the cross-guard, Jaciel's name was etched in tiny bright letters.

Lirael gave Jasna an experimental swing, and felt the muscles of her arm that up till recently had been without a hand complain a little at the unaccustomed exertion. She nearly started a drill there and then, but recalled her surroundings when she neatly lopped off part of a bed-curtain. Quickly, she headed for the door, towards the practice courts- forgetting completely her plans to leave.

"_I still don't quite understand," Kirrith blustered at Sanar and Ryelle. They glanced at each other- you could almost feel 'no surprises there' leaking out of their skin._

"_You let my niece sail off towards heroism and danger, with one of the Nine Bright Shiners and a sword for company? And you omitted to tell me?"_

"_We didn't think you'd care to know," Sanar said. "After all, you didn't realise she was suicidal on her fourteenth birthday. You were less than tactful about her lack of the Sight. And we didn't know much of this until recently: your niece opened pathways for the Sight as she made her choices."_

"_Besides," Ryelle continued smoothly, "we didn't know about the Disreputable Dog –that's the name she went by –until she saved Lirael's life in Binding Orannis, at which point it was borne in on Lirael that she had befriended not less a person than Kibeth."_

"_That's all very well, Sanar-"_

"_Ryelle," Ryelle interrupted._

"_Or Sanar," Sanar corrected her twin. "Or perhaps- both."_

"_Me-ow," giggled a small girl, voicing the delight of the crocodile of young orphans at listening to their stern guardian being upbraided by the most powerful and confusing twins known to the Clayr._

"_Me-ow indeed!" Kirrith murmured. Then, louder: "Do not let me hear that risible noise from you again, Lucithe."_

_Lucithe merely giggled all the harder._

Lirael was doing practice drills, starting at the most basic. She had just finished the last solitary drill, and now she felt a little... at a loose end.

"Er... Lirael?"

Lirael started. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Fifteen minutes," Nick said truthfully, although not mentioning, for instance, the way Lirael's hair had shone in the sun. "You seemed busy." He held a practice sword. "Want to try some drills?"


	6. Paperwings

A/N: Not the longest chapter, but the beginnings of some half-decent Lirael/Nick.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

"Now would be the best time to leave," Sabriel said uncertainly, checking the Very Useful Guide, along with her almanac and no less than three maps, plus seven different authorities on the weather so far. "I mean, I'm uncertain about travelling so close to the storm season, but... we have three weeks' breathing space at the least."

"Have you always been this cautious, ma'am?" Nick asked, peering at Sabriel's workings-out. Nick had asked to go when he'd heard about the Library (Lirael didn't blame him. The library at the Palace was extensive, but it had nothing on the Clayr's Library.)

"Not always," Sabriel told him. "It's a fairly recent development. Lirael?"

"Nothing," Lirael said. "We're going by Paperwing, right?"

"Yes," Sabriel answered. "The Clayr have been experimenting with the design. They now have one that seats three, so they sent that across."

"Mm," Lirael said.

Something occurred to Sabriel. "Have you ever flown in one?"

Lirael shifted in her chair. "No. What's it like?"

Sabriel leant back in her chair and smiled at the ceiling. "It's like magic. You feel like the wind takes you where it takes you. It's a little like living dangerously, living as free as the very air. You feel... alive."

The glances Lirael and Nick shot each other were full of a shared horror.

"_We have Seen," the Voice of the Nine-Day Watch said, matter-of-factly. "We have Seen, and so therefore it must be."_

_Kirrith stifled a sigh of annoyance. She thought a great deal of Isrelle, but Voices of the Watch tended to be a little... imprecise just after a Watch. In fact, the Clayr participating in the Watch were generally less than exuding perspicacity as a whole- so perhaps the Voice ought to have waited just a little before coming out to discuss whatever it was that had been Seen with her. However, Kirrith had dealt with many Voices as and when they announced the loss of one of her charges to Clayr adulthood- even when, like that Annisele (Kirrith connected the girl with several nasty, and entirely deserved words), they were the very last you'd say were ready for independence. Kirrith, by now, knew that it was in general a better course of action to hold one's tongue and wait for the Voice to get to the point. So Kirrith did something most untypical: she held her tongue, drawing on the little patience she had. _

"_We have Seen the child," the Voice declared after a suitably dramatic interval. "We have Seen the child for only the second time."_

"_Lirael?" Kirrith inquired humbly, swallowing most of her pride._

"_Lirael... that is the name given to the child. She stands with the Queen, and a young man Seen some months previously... his name is Nicholas, Nicholas Sayre. They are beside a Paperwing in the Abhorsen's colours... the child is as like to the Queen as a sister... they will arrive tomorrow, at noon. Be at the Paperwing Deck."_

_Kirrith nodded respectfully, but as the Voice turned and swept regally up the corridor, she wondered privately when Voices had got to be so uppity they could not say anything in a normal tone of voice, as opposed to that of one Seeing constantly. In fact- everyone in the Glacier seemed to disrespect her suddenly. That worried Kirrith: she couldn't bring to mind anything that she'd done recently that deserved disapproval... _

"Are you sure I won't put my foot through this?" Nick asked, sounding a little worried. Sabriel was as comfortable as if she'd been born in a Paperwing, Lirael, although slightly apprehensive, appeared fairly comfortable – but, Nick reminded himself, they were considerably lighter, and this was their birthright, while he himself was an upstart Ancelstierran.

A lot of things were not precisely to Nick's taste about the Paperwing. He was willing to admit that they were certainly works of art, with their streamlined body, their clear, sparkling paint and general air of eagerness for the sky. He just somewhat doubted the abilities of a work of art to hold itself up in the sky. Of course, this impression was not helped by the brisk wind that caught at hair, and clothes. It seemed like this would be enough to knock the Paperwing off the deck. And then there was the fact that the Paperwing was made from – well – paper. It didn't make Nick feel any safer, and the deviousness apparent in those yellow eyes unsettled him.

"Come on!" Lirael called.

"I promise you won't stick your foot through!" Sabriel said, and added, smiling, "if Touchstone didn't, no reason why you should!"

That comforted Nick a little. The King had a heavy build, he was tall, and muscled- and by a process of scientific elimination, heavier than Nick. Therefore, Nick should not fall through. He just hoped he wasn't going to be airsick.

Gingerly, Nick climbed in, folding long limbs into the limited space, and pulling his belongings after him. Lirael and Sabriel grinned over their shoulders at him, Lirael's typically serious mindset lifted by the comical sight and idea that was Nick nervous of a Paperwing.

It struck Nick forcibly how like Lirael and Sabriel were. True, one was for years older than the other. True, the Charter marks on their foreheads were different, Lirael's proclaiming a Daughter of the Clayr. True, there were white stress streaks at Sabriel's temples. But the long straight black hair, the brackets at the side of their mouths when they smiled, were so similar that had there been fifteen fewer years between them Nick would have been hard put to tell them apart. But Nick, a scientist to the core, racked his brains and realised there was at least one crucial difference: it was Lirael whom his eyes kept returning to, the grin bringing mischief and laughter to her eyes.

With reflections like this to bother him, Nick thought, annoyed, he'd not have time to even think about anything else. Irreverence: most unlike him.


	7. Timber!

A/N: A little more Lirael/Nick in this chapter. You may have noticed, I like to be fairly subtle and sweet with my fluff.

Disclaimer: No. They aren't mine. Well, Melar is. I'n't she cute?

* * *

There was one thing to say about the Paperwing: it was cold. Well, really, there were a great deal of things Nick, at least, could think of to say, but not in front of the ladies.

Firstly, it was, as mentioned before, absolutely freezing cold. So cold frost patterns formed on Nick's goggles. So cold, Nick could have sworn he heard the Paperwing complain to Sabriel- 'really not the season for flight!'. So cold, Lirael thought she saw icicles forming from the clouds, although she herself was fine because there was a convenient patch of warmth otherwise known as Nick directly behind her. Sabriel was used to it.

Secondly, it was very fast. So fast, you didn't have time to even think about throwing up; so fast, it was reasonable that one leant back slightly into one's neighbour to prevent one from losing one's hat- at least, that's what Lirael told herself. Nick thought that they must by close to breaking the sound barrier, and resolved to memorize any details when they did. Sabriel, of course, was used to it.

Thirdly, the wind in Belisaere seemed like a lazy summer breeze compared to this. It was a gusting, howling gale. It whistled through ears, up nose, flapped hats and whisked the edges of clothing. It threw bits of snow and ice at faces. It was another thing that Sabriel didn't notice, but it made Lirael dizzy and headachy and cold, and it muddled Nick's head.

"_Where are you going?" one of the younger children asked. "Surely it's freezing outside." _

_Kirrith, piling on warm clothes, took a little while to answer. "It is frigid out there, Melar, it's true, but there are important visitors arriving by Paperwing, one of whom is related to me, so I have to go to all the trouble of climbing that wretchedly long, steep stair, standing out in the cold and the wet for a flexible amount of time, depending on how right the Watch were when they guessed the time- which is probably not very, and on the reliability of the advance message-hawk."_

_Melar plugged her mouth with one thumb, jade-green eyes bright and unblinking. "Don't do that," Kirrith said automatically, and let out a frustrated sigh. "I still don't understand certain... aspects of the vision. It's quite plain to me that almost everyone is keeping something back from me." She hauled a final jersey over her head, and realised that Melar had said very little. "Keep it quiet, Melar. What I've said is our secret, nobody else's. Run along, now, I've got to go... and for pity's sake, child, take that thumb out of your mouth!" _

When, eventually, they reached the calmer airspace around the Clayr's deck, everyone relaxed a little. Sabriel stretched and wet her lips, ready to take the Paperwing down, Lirael sat up straighter, and Nick shook his head to clear it.

_The Paperwing was close enough to see, a blue and silver blot hovering briefly on the wind. Three shapes were discernable in it, and the keys of the Abhorsen could just about be seen on the side. A pair of thin arms, presumably belonging to the pilot, stretched. Kirrith hugged her woollen jersey closer. She vaguely remembered that Lirael had been a quiet, unathletic child who spent an unholy amount of time in that library. With the charges placed upon her, Kirrith was not quite sure she wanted to see the differences in Lirael._

Going down was another thoroughly interesting experience. Sabriel, showing a slightly sadistic streak, chose to take them down in a slow spiral, which made everyone's stomachs twist, wriggle and complain.

_The Paperwing completed the final spiral and coasted neatly to a stop. The Abhorsen Queen was certainly the pilot, then- the handling of the craft spoke of years of practise. The group climbed out. For a vague moment, two of the passengers were identical, the other taller and a little more awkward._

Lirael unbuckled the hat and goggles, feeling a traitorous inclination to stare childishly at her feet. She straightened her back and let her eyes show as little emotion as possible, although she could not hide the traces of awe as they skipped over Jansell, Mirelle, Vancelle, Sanar, Ryelle, the Voice of the Nine-Day Watch- Aunt Kirrith?

Lirael was struck by an attack of sudden fright and insecurity. Would Kirrith tell her off, demand that she never leave the Glacier again? Would the Voice strip her of her title- Daughter of the Clayr?

Lirael did not know it, but to Kirrith's wondering eyes she looked almost exactly like Sabriel- definitely 'as like to the Queen as a sister'. Kirrith remembered tales brought to her of Lirael's morbid interests, and a thin bony finger of shock ran down her spine.

The surcoat shocked her even more. Abhorsen's keys quartered with Clayr's stars... what was that intended to signify, if you please? Other than that Lirael appeared to be half-sister to the Abhorsen and (by the bells) Abhorsen-in-Waiting?

Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to speak. Lirael's own eyes rested on her, so similar- and yet so different –to the ones she had known.

"Lirael?" Kirrith's own voice, barely recognizable, cracked in the middle.

Lirael licked her dry lips. "A-Aunt Kirrith?"

Vancelle was frowning at Lirael's surcoat. "Keys and stars? Lirael, what?"

"Lirael's a Remembrancer," Sabriel said quietly, but with obvious pride.

"- half Clayr, half Abhorsen, the first in five hundred years," Kirrith completed. She had been just as widely read as Lirael when she was younger.

Kirrith felt the blood rushing to her head and black spots jived in front of her eyes. "Timber!" she heard the young man with a red surcoat with black diamonds –the symbol of Ancelstierre- and small green trees oncry. 'Timber', she wondered. What... a ... very... silly... phrase...


	8. Silent Conversation And Cold Stew

A/N: Hey. Not dead after all, am I? Anyway. If there's one thing I'm a little worried about this chapter, it's the poetic license I took with Sanar and Ryelle's unvoiced conversation. I thought they'd do something like that. I also thought being so, well, important at a young age might make them slightly contemptuous of more serious people, and I randomly decided to make Sanar the sensible one.

Disclaimer: Regardless of how I may have butchered Garth Nix's works, they remain Garth Nix's works.

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"I hope your aunt is OK," Nick said. "Why did she up and faint?"

Lirael simply blinked at him, and Nick rephrased the question. "Why did your aunt faint so suddenly?"

Lirael shrugged slightly. "I don't know. I have never understood anything my aunt does."

Around them, the Lower Refectory buzzed with its usual mix of a few Clayr, merchants and ordinary folk. A few stared at Lirael's bells and Nick's unusual surcoat, but the rest ate and talked and laughed and completely ignored the pair. Sabriel had not managed to escape the 'invitation' to an uncomfortable dinner with some of the most important Clayr, and with her they would surely have caught all eyes, but for now they rested in obscurity.

Nick finished a mouthful and tried to make conversation again. Lirael seemed much quieter, much more pensive since they had come here.

"So you used to eat down here all the time?"

Lirael nodded.

"Lirael, are you going to talk at all?"

Lirael shook her head. Nick gave up.

The Lower Refectory went quiet. "That is not normal," Lirael remarked, startling Nick. He twisted in his seat.

Two very tall, blonde woman stood at the entrance. They were tanned, their hair caught up under jewelled nets, their eyes icy blue. They wore long white dresses. They were identical. Twins. Terrific.

One twin made a flapping motion with her hand, and most people went back to the serious business of eating. Not, however, Lirael and Nick, who watched transfixed as they selected their food and walked over to them, and sat down beside them.

I'm sure Lirael's jaw had dropped before, but not quite so drastically.

"Lirael," Sanar commented, sliding into the seat next to Nick-

"- there are no flies in the Glacier," Ryelle finished, closing her cousin's jaw with one slim finger.

Lirael blushed and started to eat industriously.

"Kirrith will be fine," Sanar began.

"You just-"

"- gave her a bit of a shock," Sanar ended.

"Long overdue, apparently," Nick observed. "If you get surprised frequently you don't faint when you do get a nasty surprise."

"One should not speak ill of one's family," Ryelle remarked quellingly.

"But then you'd never tell anyone off," someone argued.

When Sanar and Ryelle glanced at Lirael in shock, they saw that she was bent over her meal, a faint blush on her cheeks. They directed astonished looks at each other.

_Not that it isn't nice to see Lirael standing on her own two feet for others of her own accord-_

_-but there was something to that!_

One of the twins' failings was talking to each other without words –as twins often do- and ignoring everyone else. Lirael didn't care, but Nick looked more and more interested as hand-signs, looks and subtle turns of the head and twitches of cutlery flew between the pair.

_Oh, look. He's watching us._

_You mean he's noticed? That's-_

_-Unusual, yes, but I've seen something elsssssse!_

_You are being difficult, twin-mine. You do know that if he sees enough conversations like this, and works it out-_

_-How? How would he do that? He has nothing to work with._

_Shut up, Ryelle._

_And shut up to you too. Kirrith would have a fit if she knew we talked like this._

There followed a totally incomprehensible bout of silent mirth.

_True. We can't sit on our not-so-adult dignity forever, though. You know that._

_It would be like sitting on a piece of ice!_

More silent mirth. Nick sighed and returned to his –steadily cooling- stew.

_We couldn't get away with this in the Upper Refectory, you know, Sanar._

_Yes. It's refreshing. Anyway, now that he's not looking, what did you want to say?_

_Lirael likes Nick._

_She does?_

Sanar drained her water-glass in shock.

_Nick likes Lirael._

_He does?_

_I wonder if you know how intelligent that makes you sound._

_Not very? I know. But this... this is unprecedented!_

_You sound like Jansell, now..._

_There is no need to be catty, Ryelle. Be fair, you weren't expecting this either._

_No- but you did sound like Jansell, truly._

Pause while Sanar took several large bites of her bread roll and pretended to ignore Ryelle.

_Stop it, twin-mine. I know you hear -ah- see me. Now that we agree that Lirael likes Nick and Nick likes Lirael, hwat do we do now?_

_Nothing._

_What! I know Mother called you 'sensible Sanar', but that's the largest piece of silly tripe I've heard, or for that matter seen, since I was hauled up for loop-the-looping my Paperwing._

_You knew you were not supposed to do that. We are getting off topic._

_So we are. But why shouldn't we do anything?_

_One: because I have not a clue what we would or should do. Two: because we will no doubt get it horrendously wrong, which-_

_-will puncture our reputation of being the perfect Clayr?_

_I was going to say, would be uncomfortable. Three: do you really want to meddle with Lirael and her life? Accept it: everyone except Lirael knows next to nothing about how she thinks and feels. It would be too easy to err._

_Hmmph._

_Hmmph three-fold, twin-mine. Your stew is getting cold._

In fact, this ranked as one of the most confusing things ever from Nick's point of view (just below the bewildering sequence of turns that, with luck, would return him to his room.) As far as he could tell, Sanar and Ryelle knew something about him and Lirael. There were several possibilities, but rational Nick was forced to admit that the most likely could proceed to make his life rather uncomfortable, because even he still wasn't sure where he was with this odd business of being in love- with his best friend's _aunt_, no less.


	9. The Library And Jealousy?

A/N: Sorry. Short chappie, I know. But I could not resist the ending... Please r/r!

Disclaimer: All the great, terrifc, wonderful... you know the score. It's not mine.

**ABABABABABABABABABABABA**

How big can a library be? Nick wondered as Lirael led him down passage after passage, sometimes deferring to older Clayr who looked down their noses at Nick and smiled graciously at Lirael (who produced some sort of lukewarm half-grin).

At first Nick had thought that this must be a library to top all libraries, considering that it employed -according to Lirael- at least an eighth of the Clayr, took up a quarter of the Clayr's stone halls, and was as old as the Clayr its collective self. But now, seeing the actual number of Clayr, which was not, after all, so very large, Nick was rapidly downsizing his imaginary library.

"It's enormous," Lirael said happily, breaking the silence that Nick had grown half-accustomed to. "It's my place."

They have come to a pair of huge wooden doors. Lirael pushed one open and stepped inside. "This's the Reading Room," she tells Nick, but before she could say anymore a small avalanche of blue-waistcoated librarian attacked her.

"LIRAEL!"

"Imshi?" Lirael gasped.

"Who else? You've been away so long! Whatever were you doing- no, wait, I know that."

Lirael blinked and gave Imshi a questioning look.

"Gossip travels faster than a Paperwing, Lirael," Imshi explained, interpreting the look.

Lirael's eyebrows shot up briefly and then down, and she shrugged.

"Who's your friend?" Imshi asked, looking at Nick. He was waiting a respectable distance back from any reunions. He bowed. "Nicholas Sayre. Nick."

Lirael nodded confirmation of the introduction. "Nick, this is First Assistant Librarian Imshi."

"Pleased to meet you," Imshi said briskly. "Lirael- are you coming back- forever?"

Lirael hitched her shoulders and looked at the other woman.

Nick held his breath.

"I don't know," Lirael whispered, conscious of Nick's listening ears, wondering what she can say other than what she has to say, and settles on a reasonable alternative. "I don't know if I can."

"That's right," Imshi said. "Abhorsen-In-Waiting and Second Assistant Librarian Lirael."

"Yes," Lirael affirmed, and a finger on the hand jammed into a waistcoat pocket (a little frayed, rather battered) fidgeted with a ring of red silk.

She snags it, and pulls it out of her pocket absently. Imshi notices, and it draws her attention to the parlous state of Lirael's waistcoat. "That waistcoat's been through the wars, Lirael."

Lirael nods, and Nick grins. "Literally. You could even say they'd been through a _hedge_ backwards."

(Lirael is not impressed.)

"You need a new one, I think," Imshi remarks, examining the fraying edge of the pockets, and the loosening buttons. Lirael nods mutely, and follows Imshi towards the storeroom Lirael remembers from when she was fourteen years old.. They are being stared at- Lirael wishes she had just left her hair down, as she used to. On the other hand, even more of them are staring at Nick- which, for reasons Lirael refused to even consider quietly in a thrice-locked Charter-spelled chest inside an unused froom in the back of her mind, annoyed her- possibly because none of them had ever seen an Ancelstierran before. Or even for other reasons, Lirael thought (and then hastily stamped on that notion- not even a notion- an idea- an idle thought- oh, just forget I ever entertained it anyway, Lirael thought irritably.)


End file.
